Letting Go
by LejindaryBunny
Summary: Before Don Juan is to be preformed, Christine confesses to Raoul where her heart truly lies. What is the gentle Viscompte to when his love is unrequited?


Letting Go

By Lejindarybunny

Christine sat huddled in a corner of the tiny chapel, her knees drawn up to her chest and her hair falling and hiding her face.

This was how Raoul found her.

"Christine?" he asked, kneeling beside her. "Are you quite alright?" He put a hand on her shoulder, and felt her shivering. He saw the tears glistening on her cheeks. "Christine what's wrong?" he begged, "tell me what happened."

She looked up at him and opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out, and she looked away again.

Raoul put his arms around her, all tenderness and concern in his embrace. Whatever it was that was distressing her, she would tell him when she was calmed, and it was up to him to comfort her until then.

"Shh," he urged softly, his face close to hers. "It'll be alright. Whatever it is it'll be alright. I promise."

Much to the Viscompte's distress, she only began to sob harder. Still, Raoul held her faithfully, rocking her gently and whispering reassuring things to her. They passed several minutes in this fashion, until he heard Christine's soft and trembling voice.

"Why, Raoul?"

He looked questioningly at her, wondering if she was going to elaborate. She didn't meet his gaze. "Why what, Christine?"

"'Why?' so many things," she sniffed. "Why must things be this way? Why are you always so kind to me? What- what did I ever do to deserve your affection?"

Raoul stared at her. "Deserve?" he scoffed, "Christine, I love you. You know I do."

"But _why_?"

Had she lost her senses? "Why does the sun rise? Why do birds fly? Christine, what's wrong?" he grasped her hands gingerly. "Please tell me. Please?"

"I- I can't," Christine whispered, "I can't do it Raoul."

The young nobleman sighed. She was upset over Don Juan again, that had to be it. With the production less than a week a way, it was hardly surprising. He knew it would be hard for her, but he also knew it was the only sure way to be rid of the Phantom once and for all.

Well, they could always elope to England, but somehow, Raoul didn't think Christine would take too kindly to that idea.

"Christine, I know this is difficult for you, but you must sing the part. I promise, no harm will come to you."

Her fingers under his and Raoul felt Christine tense; he squeezed her hands gently, but she pulled away from him.

"No, that's not- well, yes, but…oh!" Christine, seeming quite muddled, buried her face in her hands and began to sob afresh. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Sorry? For what?"

"I'm so sorry."

"Christine!" Raoul pleaded, her obvious anguish distressing him in the utmost.

In a sudden movement Christine pulled her hands away from her face, and hugged herself around the waist, she stared at him, streams of tears running down her face. "Raoul, I can't marry you!"

For a moment the Viscomte just stared at her, his mind uncomprehending of her words. Then it sank in. "What?" he demanded, in a strangled almost panicked voice, "Why not!"

Christine stared at him, her gaze a mixture of pain and confusion. It was nothing to what was going on in Raoul's heart.

"I-"

"It's the Phantom, isn't it? Has he threatened you Christine?" That had to be it, why else would she want to break their engagement, why would she seem so frightened?

But to his dismay she shook her head. "No…No."

He put his hands on her shoulders. "Then why, Christine? _Why_? Don't you love me?"

Christine shivered violently. "Raoul, Raoul I do care about you. You're sweet and gentle, and kind, and handsome. Any girl would love you, you're everything anyone should want…"

Pretty words, and the Viscompte had no doubt she meant them. "If you love me, Christine, then what's to stop us being married?"

There was a long pause, in which Christine gazed sorrowfully into his eyes. "I love you Raoul- As a dear, dear brother."

The words hit him like a blow to the stomach. She loved him, as a brother? That was what he was to he? All those whispered promises, and kisses stolen on the rooftop? "As a brother?" he repeated, in disbelief.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered, looking to the floor.

His heart ached, but if that was all Christine felt, how could he change it? …Damn! What was he supposed to do? He cared so much for Christine, loved her with all his heart, he knew. It was therefore his duty to do whatever made her happiest. And if she didn't want to be married just yet, well… She might not be in love with him _now_, but he could win her heart. Couldn't he? He'd thought he already had! What more could he do? And there was one question burning on his mind.

"Christine, then why on earth did you agree to be engaged in the first place?"

She folded her arms on her knees, and rested her head on them. "I don't know," she whispered softly. "I was excited, surprised, flattered…frightened…"

Raoul watched her, sad, curious, and concerned, as she continued.

"This," she sniffled, "this is why I don't understand how you can love me. I'm so ashamed of myself. I always need someone to protect me, and I can hardly even decide what _dress_ to wear in the morning!" She began to mumble, "Am I fonder of dolls, or of goblins or shoes? Or of riddles or frocks…"

"Or of chocolates," he finished, nodding. "Christine, you know I can be there for you," he was breathing a little easier. This he could handle. He thought. His words didn't seem to comfort her any, however.

"I know," she whispered. "And that's why…I was… taking advantage of your affections."

Taking advantage? Christine thought she was somehow _using_ him? "What are you talking about?"

"I knew you were still in love with me, from when we were children. And that night, I was scared, terrified! I, I needed someone to hide behind. Needed someone to tell me that everything was alright, That _I_ was alright."

Raoul could have laughed. "Is that what this is about Christine? You think you're using me, because you know I can and will take care of you? You're a young lady! Of course you need a protector. There's nothing weak, or shameful about that. Especially when you've got a murderer stalking you!"

"No." Again Christine surprised him with her reaction. Her eyes suddenly hardened, and she said. "No, that's not it at all. I know I need someone to protect me. The thing is," she wiped away her drying tears, "that I already had someone."

Raoul had thought he had been hurt when she had said she was breaking their engagement, but this was worse. Much worse. And even more confusing, since he hadn't seen hardly anyone around her. Was she with one of the managers? "Wait… _What_?"

Christine nodded mournfully. "I told you, Raoul. I don't deserve your love. I- I frighten myself sometimes…" she looked away, shadows haunting her eyes. "Raoul, I can't marry you. Because my heart is not mine to give."

Was she trying to be cruel to him? He clenched his fists to keep himself from shaking her. "Christine, I can't bare this any longer! Tell me, who is the man who has your love when I do not!"

She looked away, didn't meet his eyes, but Raoul could see the cloudy, far away look in her hers. A sweet murmur that he could barely hear escaped her lips. "_Wildly my mind beats against him_, _yet the soul obeys…_"

"The Phantom!" Raoul now couldn't help but raise his voice with this demand. "Christine, that murderer! That _monster!_"

She crumpled into herself, tears forming in her eyes, and Raoul immediately regretted his shouting tone. He softened, and reached out to touch her, but she flinched away.

"Christine, I'm sorry, but he has got you under some kind of spell!"

"Is _love_ a _spell_, Raoul?" she demanded, turning to stare at him fiercely. Of course, as soon as the words had escaped her, her whole body was racked with a terrific sob, and she wept, clutching her shoulders

Her histrionics put Raoul off his stride. If he were angry toward her it would only make her worse, and drive her farther from him. But what was he _supposed_ to do? He reached out to her. "Christine…"

She shrank away again, and it was like a slap in the face.

"Raoul, don't touch me," she half-begged. "There's something _wrong_ with me."

The Viscompte stared at her. What could he say to _that_? The Lord knew he couldn't _agree_ with her, much as that was the best and truest answer; it'd just send her off again. "Christine, let's, let's be rational about this. Explain it to me why is it that you think that you love him?"

"Explain to you? How can I, when I can hardly explain it to myself?" Christine sniffled, and wiped at her tears with her sleeve.

"Please, just try."

"Part of it," she admitted, "is his voice…"

Raoul was reminded of the day in the graveyard, when Christine had been completely under the hypnotic spell of the Phantom's song, and he couldn't help but reminded her now, as he had then. "You know he's not your father."

She looked at him sharply again. "For pity's sake Raoul, would I be telling you that I couldn't marry you if I thought of him as a _father_?"

Raoul shifted uncomfortably, as a small blush crept across Christine's face. "Er…I suppose not."

After an uneasy moment, Christine asked, "Do you want me to continue, Raoul, or not?"

"Go ahead," he urged, though at this point Raoul wasn't at all sure that he wanted to hear what she would say.

"He's…I don't know Raoul. Maybe I don't want to talk about it after all…" she looked away unhappily, but kept speaking. "He's… alluring somehow… dark and captivating. He's brilliant, and driven. And yet there's a strange sort of innocence in him too. I know underneath his cold, commanding exterior, there's gentleness and goodness. He's always been alone Raoul…." Christine shivered, her voice now a whisper. "…I was so alone."

No, this was not something Raoul wanted to hear at all. It was too revealing. These were Christine's feelings laid bare and they showed the Viscompte a truth he realized he had known all along, but had been hiding from himself.

This was not the Christine, the innocent young girl, whose scarf he had rescued, whom he had played and heard stories with as a child. This was a Christine whose father had died, and left her all alone, who must have felt abandoned by the world.

Had Raoul been there to comfort her? No, until just a few weeks ago he hadn't even seen her for nearly a decade! What had his dear Christine, his Little Lotte, had to comfort her but the thought of a sweet Angelic protector? She'd always been a dreamer; with no one looking out for her, no one to cradle and protect her, Raoul had no doubt how closely she would have clutched to faith in this dream.

And when the dream seemed to become reality, when this shadowy presence had spoken to her, taught her to sing, even secured her roles for her, it must have seemed as if a sweet dream had turned into sweet reality! How could he expect Christine _not_ to love her 'Angel of Music' even when he was proven to be nothing more than a man, a madman even? When he had been the only one there for her!

Damn it! How could a poor Viscompte compete with that?

If Raoul had gotten there earlier, before the Phantom had begun to stalk Christine, she would have loved him. But he had come too late, and no comfort he could give now, it seemed, would atone for that singular cruelty.

It was a memory he loved. The Christine that he had known had begun to fade at her father's death bed. His Little Lotte, with her wide smile, and weak voice, had dissolved inexorably into this new Christine. A young woman with sad eyes and the voice of an angel.

A voice that was the gift of an 'angel'.

What gift could Raoul offer her?

"Raoul?" Christine asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

He regarded her with a miserable, but steady gaze. "So," he said with a wan smile, "Little Lotte's finally made her choice. It seems she prefers goblins and riddles to shoes and frocks."

She peered at him quizzically. "Raoul…"

He shook his head.

What could he do to change it? Certainly, he could have the Phantom caught and likely executed, but how would that make Christine love him? All it could do was make resentment grow in her heart, and Raoul couldn't bear the thought of making her unhappy. Even if it meant he must give her up.

To a madman though? Who lived under an Opera House? A known murderer? Perhaps the Phantom would soften with Christine's…love… but….

"You'll tell me if he lays a hand on you Christine," he said firmly. "If he harms you in any way, I swear to God I'll kill him with my own hands."

"Wh-what are you talking about, Raoul?"

The Viscompte hardened his heart, and hoped his voice wouldn't break as he spoke. "You love this Phantom, this man? Then, you…" Raoul gulped, "you should go to him, Christine. Though no doubt he's watching you, even now."

Christine looked over her shoulder, involuntarily, Raoul thought. "You…_want_ me to go?"

"Of course I don't want you to go. But I can't keep you, either. You're _his_," Raoul muttered, unable to keep a trace of resentment out of his voice.

Raoul, I-" she was going to protest, but then she turned away. "Thank you. For…Raoul, you're a good man, noble, and… and true."

Raoul said nothing.

"I did love you, you know. After you left. For a while you were on my mind every day."

Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. "Christine, please. Don't. Don't make this any more difficult. Just…go."

"I'm sorry," Christine whispered. But she was standing up. "I didn't mean to…"

"I know," Raoul was the one who couldn't meet her gaze this time. Poor Little Lotte was drawn to the darkness.

She looked down at him, and reached out a hand. She brushed his cheek with her fingers, and as he looked up at her face, she kissed him softly on the cheek. A sisterly kiss. And then she walked to the doorway.

"Is this goodbye then?" he asked her, not looking up. In his mind he saw two Opera ghosts, haunting the hallways, clinging to the cobwebs and the night. He heard her pause.

"I don't know, Raoul. It might be. I hope not," she sighed. "But you know I've never really been in charge of my own destiny."

Raoul sighed as well, and repeated, "I know."

He wouldn't let his feelings get the better of him, not in front of Christine. He still had to be strong, for her sake.

"I'll always think of you," she said, in a small voice, and then, only when she was through the door, did Raoul look up.

He watched her go, disappearing into the shadows that lurked in the hallway, as though she had already been carried away in the arms of her mysterious lover, and he sang sadly, to the tune of something he'd heard Christine humming over and over again.

"_And once again, it seems, I'm left behind…The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside her mind"_

He sat huddled in the corner of that tiny chapel, knees drawn up to his chest, weeping for a love that he had lost long ago.

It was a long time before anyone found him.

_fin_

A/N: I hoped everyone liked the fic. I kind of wrote it in reaction to all the EC fics I've been reading that make Raoul out to be a horrible person. I enjoy reading them, and I understand why it's necessary to the plot, but in all honesty it's a little out of character. Obviously I'm madly in love with Erik, but Raoul's not a bad guy, you know? He's a good man.


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